


Bared and Broken

by Monalisasandmadhatters20



Category: Elton John (Musician), Music RPF, Rocketman (2019), Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, F/M, M/M, Suicidal Ideation, There won't be a happy ending for this one..., self injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24119635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monalisasandmadhatters20/pseuds/Monalisasandmadhatters20
Summary: Her shriek of rage could be heard even outside the house as he hopped into his truck.  Bloody woman…, he thought, shifting his old truck into gear.  He lit a cigarette, feeling his body begin to tremble.  He ignored the tears and drove towards the Troubadour...The bloody place their hell truly started.Or: a study in the workings of one of the most dysfunctional working relationship in history.
Relationships: Bernie Taupin/Maxine, Elton John & Bernie Taupin, Elton John/Bernie Taupin, Elton John/John Reid
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	1. It always starts at the beginning...

**Author's Note:**

> The very beginning seems like something I have written before, but it is much different, I promise. I hope you enjoy this latest story! Comments and kudos are appreciated.

He came to all at once. He gazed around the room, blinking the last vestige of sleep from his eyes, as he searched the room for the culprit of his rude awakening. He felt the familiar weight of his wife’s thin arms around his waist: gentle, yet suffocating. He listened to the storm raging outside, one of the first San Bernardino had seen in months. The moon shone bright through the window, casting an irritating light into the darkness of the bedroom. The digital clock read 3:00 am. Nothing seemed out of place, other than the fact he was awake at the witching hour. He was just about to close his eyes again, when he heard the bedside telephone begin to ring.

Bernie Taupin felt his heart sink. With a best mate like Elton John, nothing good ever came from 3 am phone calls…

He reached over and picked up the receiver, wincing slightly at his wife’s exasperated groan beside him. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Maxine, just go back to sleep,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. He threw his legs over the side of their king sized bed, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Taupin residence?”

He was quite chuffed at just how steady his voice sounded, when he was feeling quite hysterical inside. He heard the storm through the receiver, heavy breathing or maybe sobbing, the  _ splash _ of a car racing down the street through the puddles that were no doubt all over the roads by now, but no words were spoken… He felt the stirrings of impatience taking precedence over his fear. “Is anyone there?”

He heard a deep sigh, a familiar sigh, one he would never have the capability to forget.  _ “Hey-ah, Bern… Probably the last person you suspected calling you at this hour here.” _

Bernie felt a smile spread across his face. “Well, yes, usually my 3 am phone calls are  _ about _ you, Reg, not  _ actually  _ you. I’m not dreaming, am I? This is actually you?”

“ _ Yeah… Yeah, it’s me. Been a while, ain’t it?” _

“Two years, Reg,” Bernie replied softly, getting to his feet. “Two years since I’ve heard from you, though I’ve heard quite a bit about you, of course.”

He heard Reg’s tinkling laughter on the other side of the line. “ _ Yes, I’ve gotten a bit popular lately. It’s because of you, of course, Bern. Without your work I’d never have gotten this far. I… I guess… I don’t know.” _

Bernie began to pace. “I don’t know what time it is where ever you are, mate, but it’s three in the morning here. And Max is pissed I’m on the phone... Is everything alright?”

He heard Reggie take a deep, shaking breath. He knew he was trying to compose himself before he had one of his infamous breakdowns. “ _ I… I don’t really know, Bernie. I’m standing outside the Troubadour right now, so I guess it’s 3 am where I am too.”  _ He heard Reg laugh, albeit borderline hysterical than actual humor at this point. _ “Remember our first show here? How terrified I was, the panic I had experienced the week leading up to it? How cool and collected you were? Hell, you went on a trip with everyone and left me to my panic because you said it was bloody stupid to be so upset when I was going to do so well. I was angry with you, but you were right, of course. You’re always right. I… I left John tonight.” _

Bernie gripped the phone tighter lest it fall out of his hand. “You did what now?”

This time the laughter was hysterical and Bernie felt his heart break. “ _ We were getting ready to host a party. The one you rsvped no to. We were in the bathroom doing the last bit of makeup for our costumes, and we got into a row. He bloody punched me, mate. I don’t even remember what started the row, but he bloody punched me. I can’t… I won’t… I won’t be with someone who hits me. Not after my parents. So I caught a cab and ended up in front of the Troubadour with some whisky and have been reminicing in this fucking storm.” _

“I can come get you. I can come get you and bring you here for a little bit, if you want. You’ll catch your death out there, mate. Let me come get you.”

Reg didn’t respond at first. Bernie began to dress, the phone on his shoulder, already making his decision. Whether Reg wanted him to or not, he was going to get him, he was going to bring him back to the Ranch, and he was going to make his friend strong again. There was no other way this situation could end.

He had seen the magazines. He had seen the shows on the telly. He had seen the weight Reg had lost. He had seen the dead eyes. He had seen how his clothes became more and more outrageous. He had seen just how far Reg had lost himself, and he needed to help him, somehow.

“ _ Alright,” _ Reg finally responded, his voice small. “ _ You know where I am. I… I’ll try to stay here and wait for you, Bern.” _

“Thank you, Reg. You won’t regret it. I’ll be there within the hour.”

Bernie hung up on the phone with a grin on his face. It dropped off his face when he was faced with Maxine’s anger. “Were you not even going to ask if I found this okay? Because I don’t, Bernie… I don’t find this okay at all.”

“He’s my best mate, love. He needs my help. Our help, if you wish to stay. I wouldn’t be bothered if you decided to go to your mother’s as you threaten me with almost every day,” he replied, slipping on his shoes and not even deigning his wife with a look. “So if you are here when I return, wonderful. If you aren’t, even better. I will be helping my friend, whether you like it or not.”

Her shriek of rage could be heard even outside the house as he hopped into his truck.  _ Bloody woman…, _ he thought, shifting his old truck into gear. He lit a cigarette, feeling his body begin to tremble. He ignored the tears and drove towards the Troubadour... 

The bloody place their hell truly started.

  
  


********

It was supposed to be the best trip of their young lives. A country boy, and a boy from the ‘burbs in the big city. America! Wide open spaces, beautiful girls… Drinks aplenty. The alcohol in LA was so much better than the alcohol they had at home. Or perhaps it was only better because they got it all for free. When ‘Elton John’ walked into any establishment they almost fell over themselves to ensure he was comfortable. It was hilarious, and it was brilliant.

Bernie had never been more thankful to be a part of Reg’s life.

The night of the performance Reg was jittery, afraid. There was no reason for it, of course. ‘Elton’ was a shit hot piano player and singer. The backing band Ray had scrounged up worked quite well with him. He didn’t know what to do to help his friend but to give him a bit of the powder he had been given during his trip to Palm Springs. He didn’t know much about cocaine, but he did know the one time he used it it made him feel invincible.

Going home now was not an option, not after all they’d been through to get here…

He did great, of course. He would have done great even without the powder. As the years went by he would wish he never gave Reg that little push, because if he had known that one little line would turn into two, which would turn into multiple just to get through his days, he would have done things quite differently.

Quite differently indeed.


	2. Utter Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! This chapter is short. The chapters get longer as the story goes on.

Bernie took another cigarette from his pack with shaking hands. Sitting on the bus stop bench was Reg, but a Reg he hadn’t seen in years. As he drew nearer, his trembling grew stronger. The first thing he noticed was his feet were bare, and Bernie just knew he was going to catch his death out here in the pouring rain with his bloody feet bare... His face was caked with dried blood, which also stained both the dressing gown and pajamas he hadn’t bothered changing out of before he ran from home, if he recalled from the phone call, hours ago now. His thin arms were folded across the front of his dressing gown as he shivered from both the cold and wet. He pulled the blanket he kept in his truck for stargazing out before making his way to his oldest friend.

“Alright, mate?,” Bernie murmured, wrapping the blanket around the startled man’s shoulders. “You’re bloody soaked, Reg. Didn’t even think of bringing an umbrella on this trip, didya?”

“Bernie? You came…,” Elton replied, a pained smile on his face as he wrapped the blanket tighter around him.

Bernie rolled his eyes, smacking him lightly on the side of the head as he always did when he made no sense. “Of course I came, you numpty. You didn’t think I’d tell you I’d be here and then renege on it, didya? After all this time?,” Bernie asked, helping him to his feet. He frowned at how light he was, and how much worse the bleeding and the bruising looked in the light. “You must know me better than… Wait just a mom’ here, mate.” He stopped him and looked at him under one of the street lamps. “You know, when you said he decked you, I pictured one wound. Not three dozen.”

Elton laughed lightly, leaning heavily on Bernie as he started walking towards Bernie’s beatup truck. “There’s not three dozen… He did punch me once. I did the rest meself,” he said, plucking the cigarette from between his lips and smoking on it himself. “Been a rough night. Too much thinking, not enough whisky. You know the like I’m certain...”

“I thought you gave self-injury up years ago, mate,” Bernie replied, frowning, as he helped him into the truck. “And I could have given you a full one, mate. Have half a pack in my pocket.”

“Oooh, the heat feels good,” Elton said instead after a beat of silence, warming his hands by the vent rather pointedly, and Bernie knew the conversation was over for now. 

He rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut before jogging to the driver’s seat. He lit another cigarette before handing it to Elton, who rolled his eyes. “You’re trembling worse than I, mate. Makes more sense,” Bernie replied sensibly, before shifting into reverse. “Why’d you wait so long to call me? I could have been here hours ago and you could already be warm” _and safe, safe is the priority right now “_ in my guest room with as much liquor as you could want. I gave up the powder years ago, though, so that you’ll have to find yourself if you are keen for it…”

“I’m certain I can acquire some if I want it,” Elton allowed. He took a long pull from his cigarette, staring out the window at the storm. “I didn’t want to bother you, mate. I especially didn’t wish to see Maxine after the last time, but when the storm kept getting worse and I kept getting even more soaked I said bollocks and finally just rang you up. If you hadn’t answered I was planning to ring up John and tell him to come get me. Downright miserable out there, innit?”

Bernie nodded, even more thankful now that he decided to answer the phone. “That it is. I had a hard time falling asleep, and an even harder time staying asleep.” He reached over blindly and took Elton’s smaller hand into his own. “I’m thankful you called me, mate,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles like he always had when his Reg was having a rough time. “You can always call me and I’ll be there, brother.”

“Yes, you will, won’t you,” Elton said absentmindedly, shutting his eyes with a smile on his worn face. The warmth was making him drowsy. “No matter what I do, you’re always there to catch me when I fall. My knight in shining armor, aintcha?”

Except for the time he wasn’t…

***********

“This is Heather,” Bernie said brightly, almost shoving the poor girl towards Reggie in the small dressing room Doug had set up for him. There were too many people milling about for Reg’s liking. Too many people trying to speak with him, touch him, feel him up. He was thankful to have found Bernie within the throng, but less thankful when he saw the girl by his side.

“Pleasure,” Reg replied, shaking her hand and beaming up at her. Learning the stage did wonders for his personal life, able to smile when he just wanted to scream... Leave it to Bernie to find the tallest girl there was around here… “Listen, Bernie, I…”

“Who wants to go to a party at Mama Cass’s?,” Doug’s voice rang out over the sea of conversations Reg had been trying to ignore for days now. 

He didn’t want to be a part of this… this... this utter madness. And yet, after only playing one show, he was unable to get a moment alone with Bernie to chat with him about just _what_ that powder did to him: his mind, his body, his soul. Nevermind the fact he now had _Heather_ wrapped firmly between his arms.

He’d just have to find his own _Heather_ and see where that led him tonight.


	3. More Questions than Answers

It wasn’t supposed to be this way… It wasn’t supposed to be so damn hard… Bernie lay in the much too big bed alone, every bit of Maxine gone from his home. They had been falling  _ out _ of love for so long. Every little thing she did aggravated him, and he the same for her. He didn’t expect her to pack up and  _ leave _ him though, especially only because he invited Reg into their home because he had nowhere else to go. He had laid on his side on their bed and watched her pack all of her things from their bedroom, stood by and watched her box up all of her belongings strewn throughout their home, sat at the kitchen table whilst she carefully packaged her grandmother’s china and the few other dishes she couldn’t live without, and still said nothing. 

_ What could I have said, though? I’m sorry my mate is more in need than you are, and I won’t allow your anger to persuade me to do things differently?, _ he reasoned, wiping the errant tear from his cheek.  _ I’m sorry you feel the need to leave when I’ve given you the fucking world on a silver platter? I’m sorry you aren’t the same woman I married three years ago? Yeah, because all of that would have gone over well… _

Still… It hurt. He couldn’t deny that. He lay on his back in the middle of the much too large bed for one person, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he could have done to make it work. His mum had told him he was too young and wild to settle down long before he actually married Maxine. At just 18 he was still learning who and what he was. He still didn’t even know if he loved her, or he loved the idea of settling down after the strange year he and Reg had had. Reg had had a good run in the beginning, and had broken all kinds of records as the years pressed on. Bernie knew that this was just the beginning of their success. They were destined for greatness, and Bernie couldn’t decide if he was ready for it. 

But… He could officially say now that his Mum was right, and he was oh so wrong. 

_ Not that I’ll actually ring her up and tell her. Then she’ll show up here in the states and try to ‘help’ me. God above, I love that woman, but she can be just too much at times. _

He wondered how Reg was doing in the spare bedroom. He had heard the sounds of the keyboard a few times, only to have it cut out abruptly with a disgruntled groan. After Maxine had left, Bernie had shown him around the kitchen and the different takeout menus he had in the drawer by the telephone, and locked himself away in the master bedroom. He had been surviving on a diet of whisky and cigarettes, and he knew he couldn’t keep this up for much longer. 

He hoped Reg was doing better than he was…

He got to his feet slowly, stretching his arms above his head. He needed to get up and do something. He needed to get out of his head. He needed to check up on his friend and make sure he didn’t die in his sleep or something like the dream he had had the night before. He needed…

A choked sob burst from his throat before he could muffle it. He was still unsure even now if he ever loved her, or if he loved the idea of being married, but one thing he knew for certain at this time: he fucking missed her.

He wiped his eyes quickly as a knock sounded at his door. “Bernie, mate? I’m gonna order a pizza, I reckon. I’m sick of bloody sandwiches. You want some?”

Bernie got to his feet. “Fuck, Reg, let’s just go to the pizza parlour. I want to get out of my head for a bit,” he said, throwing a teeshirt over his head. “You up for that?”

“Yeah, sure, sounds good to me. Just like old times,” Reg said when Bernie finally opened the door. Bernie couldn’t help but notice how unsure he was, how he scuffed his trainer on the hardwood floor. How swollen his eyes were from the tears Bernie knew he had shed alone. How the bruising and the cuts were fading to almost nothing, and how he had to do that all alone. He had never felt more like an ass than he did when he was faced with proof of how terrible of a friend he had been to him.

“Just like old times,” Bernie murmured, placing a hand on Reg’s shoulder, the only comfort he could give.

**********

_ Would it matter if I was, Bernie? _

Would it matter if he was gay, Reg meant to ask. Bernie looked at him, feeling like he was seeing for the first time. The hugs, the pecks on the cheek, the  _ darlings _ and the  _ dears _ now seeming more than they truly were. Bernie fidgeted slightly, unsure what to say. “No, not to me,” he finally murmured, feeling his breath coming in short gasps that he hoped no one at their table would notice. He felt himself smirk, beginning to regain his balance, the memories leaving his drunk brain abruptly. “It might matter to Arabella, though, mate.”

As they walked home that night, stumbled really, Bernie couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he was the one he had been searching for. Sure, he had had plenty of girlfriends, and he had had dreams of a dark haired, pale blue eyed girl that he was almost certain he would find when they made it to America next week, but he almost knew that it wouldn’t last. He had never felt more free, more himself, than he had with Reg. Maybe, just maybe, it was him he was searching for through his strings of girlfriends and one night stands.

He didn’t know how he felt about that...


	4. Chapter 4

He was in a dark place. A very dark place, with no light in sight. Waking or sleeping, the harsh memories choked him, tore at him from the inside out, until he just had to touch the precious blade to his skin. Cruel words and ruthless punishments were his way of life, after all. All he had ever known. Sitting in the one bedroom flat he found when he finally found the strength to strike out on his own, surrounded by the things he had always promised himself he would not partake in after he finally had the will to leave John, he realized with a jolt that this was his new normal. This was his life.

Bernie offered to let him stay as long as he needed to. By staying, Bernie’s marriage crumbled. He became a shadow of his former self as time went on. He never smiled. He didn’t write like he used to. He may have been happy enough to have Elton back in his life, but it certainly didn’t show as time went on. Elton felt worse and worse about staying as each day passed, staying in the _lie_ that everything was fine, that John had only hit him the one time, no worries Bernie everything is just _fine_ , so one morning whilst Bernie was out working on the acres of land he had accumulated, he vanished without a word.

Because that was what he did. He vanished. He never explained his reasons why, no matter how numerous they may be. He left his mum’s home to live with Arabella and Bernie in the dark of night. He left Arabella and Bernie to live with John the moment they returned from their tour of America. He left John to live with Bernie at 3 am one night. 

And now he left Bernie to live by himself whilst Bernie was finally outdoors doing what he loved once again. 

_Better than crawling back to John, I reckon, though,_ he considered as he poured himself another glass of wine. _Although how I expect to move on alone is beyond me. If there is one thing I know about myself, being by myself is probably the worst thing I could do right now._

He sipped the wine slowly, staring out the window at the black night sky. He should probably right up Bernie and tell him he was still alive. He should probably tell him he was thankful for all he tried to do for him. He should probably let him know he _didn’t_ go back to his abuser. It had been a month after all since he left... But he couldn’t bring himself to make his way to the landline. 

He couldn’t bring himself to do a lot of things as of late…

He rolled up the note and snorted the last line of cocaine he had set up before collapsing in the armchair by the window. He shut his eyes, memories of _John_ overtaking him.

He wasn’t always bad...

*************

“I met a bloke last night.”

Bernie looked up from his magazine, a small smile on his face. “Oh yeah? Tell me?”

They were at the hotel the morning after Elton’s breakthrough performance at the Troubadour. Bernie had returned quite late after his ‘date’ with Heather to find it empty. He never guessed Elton might have found someone to warm a bed with. 

Elton fell onto Bernie’s bed, a wide smile on his face. “Well, re-met is the proper word for it, I suppose. You remember John Reid from Dick’s office? The tall, dark, and handsome man who works for Motown but has an office at Liberty for when his work brings him to England?” Bernie nodded, the smile growing on his face. “Well, I was sitting alone, feeling quite sorry for myself, when he showed up with a bottle of wine and two glasses. We chatted it up for a bit, then he brought me to his flat here. Oh, Bernie, it was amazing! He was so sweet and so gentle. We talked all night about everything under the sun. He seemed to actually care about me, my wants, my life, my desires. I've never felt so loved.”

Bernie squeezed Elton’s shoulder. “Oh, Reg, that’s such great news!”

Elton rolled over onto his side. “We are moving in together as soon as we make it back to England. You can move in with us, if you want, that is. Arabella will never make me happy like John does, and I know you hate her anyway.”

Bernie raised a single eyebrow. “One night together and you’re already moving in together, Reg? Are you sure that’s wise?”

Elton shrugged. “When you know, you know.”

“Of course… When you know, you know,” Bernie repeated, feeling rather sick. He had heard about John Reid, of course. He had heard many stories about the man’s temper, at least. He had seen him in passing at the studio as well. He knew deep down he should try to talk Reg out of this madness, but when he finally opened his mouth he found Reg sound asleep. He ran his fingers through Reg's hair gently, a stray tear falling from his eye. “Oh, Reg, this is madness. Hopefully you see that before it’s late…”


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was blinding even within the shade of the trees overhead. Bernie lay on the ground, his eyes closed, wondering how exactly it had come to this. One moment, he had his best mate under his roof, and the bloke was finally fucking healing, even if Bernie was not only somewhat distant, falling apart at the seams himself. He spent all night, every night, staring at the ceiling, laying in the cold and empty bed alone. Maxine wished to have nothing to do with him, as long as Elton was in his life. Not that he could blame her, of course, after what she’d seen of them together, but he still felt like a husk of himself without her in his life. She didn’t believe him when he rang her up and told her he had left.

“And neither had John,” he muttered, groaning as he turned over ever so slowly, his body stiff and unwilling to bend for him. If this pain was only part of what Elton had ever felt when dealing directly with the arsehole, then he would thank God every day he finally had the balls to leave him. 

Because he  _ hurt _ . He hurt everywhere. And he couldn’t even make it to the telephone to ring the police.

_ What a day to give the hands off, idiot, _ he thought, curling deeper into a ball and shutting his eyes tight.  _ I’ll sleep off the worst of it, and crawl to my house if I need to. I will get justice for Reg, once I’m able to move properly again. _

At least he knew at least one of his own punches landed, and John did not leave the Ranch unscathed. That would have to be his comfort, for now.

  
  


************

“He’s really gone, Maxine. You can come home, if you want to,” Bernie repeated once again, wishing more than ever he could muster up some sort of enthusiasm for even having her home. It had been a month since Elton disappeared, two weeks since he was beaten up for not knowing a thing about where he might be, and a week since he was able to move properly again. 

“ _ Do you actually want me there, Bernie? _ ”

He winced at the question, because he really didn’t want his wife to return to him. He wanted Elton to return to him and that opened up a new can of worms he really didn’t feel up to dealing with at this time. “Of course I do, my love. I miss having you around,” he replied as honestly as he could. He did miss parts of their relationship, and he definitely hated being alone in the big, drafty house, and he hated having to order takeout because he was too tired to cook after spending his days working the land. “It would be nice to have you here, Max, but the final decision lies with you, don’t it?”

Maxine was silent for a bit, before finally sighing. “ _ I’ll come home to you, Bernie, but if he shows up again, I swear, I will divorce you and take everything you have with me. Understood? He is not good for you. He’s not good for us. I hope one day you’ll see it. _ ”

Bernie shut his eyes tight, knowing without a shadow of a doubt it was the other way around, but didn’t voice it. He said instead, “Loud and clear, my love. Loud and clear.”

  
  


**********

  
  


“One drink won’t hurt you, Reg. Stop being a fussbucket and enjoy yourself for once!,” Bernie said, smiling down at the newly dubbed Elton, and handing him a bottle of lager. “It’s your night, innit? Your first album is going to be released tomorrow. We have dates set up to play live in real venues, not just pubs. Let’s just enjoy ourselves! We worked damn hard to get here, dinnit we?”

Elton took the bottle gingerly in his hand. “Oh Bernie, you know how my parents are when they drink! I don’t want to be like that.”

“Who knows if you would be as you’ve never drank before. Just one lager with me, Reggie, mate, and I’ll leave you alone,” Bernie said, before taking a long pull from his bottle. “You drink it like this so you don’t have to actually taste it. You want the effects, not the taste, mate. This shite is cheap.”

Elton nodded, before mimicking Bernie, and spitting the drink right in Bernie’s face. “Jesus, mate, this shite is gross! How are you drinking it?”

Bernie fell forward laughing. “It gets easier with each one, mate. I promise.”

Elton took a long pull once again, but this time he was able to swallow it down. “Does the more expensive stuff taste better?,” he asked, looking dubiously at the half empty bottle. “Because I’m about to order something more expensive and see if it’s better. Here.” He shoved the bottle into Bernie’s chest. “I’ll take a gin and tonic, thanks.”

Bernie watched him dancing quite close with a bird later that evening and smiled. The liquor had done its job, and Reg was finally enjoying himself. He was not a ‘mean drunk.’ He was honestly quite funny with most of his inhibitions tossed into the wind. 

If he had known Elton would spend the next four years barely sober, he would have never taken him out for his first drink. He regretted it every day...


	6. Chapter 6

Things were finally beginning to seem real again. The colors, the people, the sounds… They no longer felt muted, as though he was in a dream ( _ nightmare _ ) and unable to wake himself up _. _ He no longer trudged around the house, giving care to his menagerie because he  _ had _ to, but because he actually wanted to. His poor cattle dog was finally outside again after being forced to stay inside to give some semblance of company... He awoke each morning with a purpose that didn’t seem to dwindle as the hours wore on. He could almost say he was happy, if not joyful, that things continued to work out for him after the disastrous trip into the past Reg had inadvertently brought upon them.

He scowled slightly at Maxine’s small snore beside him. He would never admit how much being apart had hurt him. He would never admit that it wasn’t her, that it was just the loneliness that had eaten away at him, day after day. Nor would he admit how he had gone days at a time without eating, bathing, or doing any other necessities because he was almost paralyzed with depression like he had never faced before, all because he was used to having someone at his side.  _ No need to worry her, especially when it wasn’t actually her I missed. She’ll pack up and leave again if she knows the truth _ , he told himself sternly whenever the opportunity to open up came upon them.  _ No need to dwell in the past when things seem to finally be working out. _

He carefully pulled himself out of her embrace and stood. He quietly padded down the hall to the kitchen, intending to grab himself a bottle of lager before everything good began to fall apart within, like it had multiple nights since Maxine had returned. His one beer turned to two, his two turned to three, when he heard a soft knock on the front door. He shook his head, willing whoever it was ( _Reggie, no doubt… Who else would have the audacity to call upon me at three in the bloody morning..._ ) to give up and leave before he woke up Maxine and she made good on her promise. 

He opened the fridge and pulled out his beer, wincing as the knocking got steadily louder. It was getting harder to ignore the insistent sound.  _ He would only appear without announcing himself if something godawful, or incredibly good, has happened… I can’t afford to ignore him if it’s something terrible, can I…? _ , he reasoned to himself. He gazed down the hall, his heart beating almost out of his ribcage when the knock sounded once more, heartened in the fact the bedroom door stayed closed, and finally opened the front door.

Only to have a barely clothed, beaten, bloody, and barely conscious Reg fall into his arms.

A memory flitted just out of reach in his slightly intoxicated mind. He shut his eyes, trying to make sense of the situation. 

One thing he knew for certain, though… He was well and truly fucked.

  
  


*************

He sat in his reclining chair by the fireplace, his fifth lager sitting beside him, doing his best to ignore both Maxine’s frantic pacing and loud ranting. He took a long pull from his bottle of lager, watching the dancing flames that barely warmed his chills. Reggie was able to speak one word,  _ Bernie _ , before falling unconscious in his arms. Bernie dragged the gaunt man to the living room, set him up on the couch, and carefully wiped away the worst of the blood, before waking Maxine.

He had regretted it since.

Her irate diatribe hadn’t woken Reg, though, and for that he was thankful. He didn’t need to hear the words she was using about him in the state he was in. He reached over and took Reg’s cool hand in his own, ignoring Maxine’s shriek of rage and childish stomping, and took another pull from his bottle. He hadn’t realized how much he actually wanted her gone, loneliness be damned, until he saw his Reg again.

“Feel free to leave if this bothers you so much, Maxine. He’s my mate, and he needs help,” Bernie said, without even looking at her. “Go back to bed, or your mother’s, or to hell for all I care. I shouldn’t have allowed you to put the rift between us in the first place, and I should have seen it for what it was years ago. You controlling bitch... This mightn’t have happened if I had. It’s too late to change the past, but I will change my future, whether you are here with me or not.”

Later, when she slammed the door after packing up each and every item she owned and placing it in her car, he winced. An even bigger storm was coming, thanks to the man in front of him.


	7. Love Lies Bleeding

“Oh the things you do to me… I’d still have my wife if you didn’t show up here. Though, I would have still had you if I hadn’t had my wife. I want you here, but I want her here, and I’m so damn confused about it all… I blame her for our rift, don’t I? But I blame you for our rift also, when really, it was me. Bloody hell, it’s always me, innit? Ever since I was a child, it was me. Michael was fucking right, he was...”

Bernie got to his feet and began to gather the empty liquor bottles that seemed to dominate his sitting room. He felt absolutely wretched, unkempt and unwashed, awaiting his friend to do more than turn uneasily and speak nonsensical words in his sleep. He was tempted to ring up a doctor if Elton didn’t wake soon. He lost track of the minutes, hours,  _ days _ due to the drunken haze that came so easily since Elton entered and Maxine left his life.

“I don’t have a problem,” he said aloud to the empty room, as he dropped the bottles into the rubbish bin. 

He might actually believe himself, of course, if they actually made it in the bin.

He scrubbed his face with his hand. So much had gone wrong in such a short period of time. He wondered what he could have done differently in his youth to ensure a simpler life now. He was just short of 23 years old, yet he felt well into his 80’s. He collapsed at the kitchen table and buried his face in his hands, ignoring his dog’s nose rubbing against his side.

Aurora, his faithful pup, was getting rather antsy being cooped up within the house, but he couldn’t bring himself to let her outside. Not until Reg woke for longer than the few minutes at a time he had been. He reached down and scratched her between her ears, thankful for the steady presence she was in his life. Thankful he had something to distract him from his pain, if only for a little while.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t save Reg from himself if he couldn’t even save himself from the darkness that threatened him. Making the decision to make the call was even harder to put into action. He took his wallet out of the kitchen drawer and found the card he was looking for. The card he had taken unwillingly from his ‘almost’ sponsor when he was on the narrow ( _ was it really over a year ago now? _ ). Fingers trembling he pressed the buttons that could change his life forever.

“Hello, my name is Bernie Taupin, and I need help.”

  
  


************

“Bernie, man… I think you need help.”

He felt a bubbling rage he had never felt before at those simple words. He had been going to the meetings.  _ 90 in 90 _ , Michael had stated, if he wished for him to take on the role of his sponsor. It had been difficult at first, but he had been clean from everything for over a month now for Christ’s sake. The darkness he had run from seemed to press ever closer with each passing day without the drink or the drug to mute it, but he had persevered so far. What more did this man want from him? 

“What do you mean, mate?,” he asked slowly, carefully, stomping down the anger with force.

“I think you need more help than I can give you,” he said with a shrug, like it was nothing. Like his progress thus far meant nothing. Like the hate and the rage he fought every minute of every day to squash was meaningless. “There’s a place nearby that…”

“No,” Bernie interrupted, folding his arms across his chest to stop their shaking.

“I was only…”

“No, Michael,” Bernie interrupted yet again. 

Michael sighed, sliding the card across the table. “Take it, at least, Bernie. Put it in your wallet and put it out of your mind, if you must, but at least fucking take it on the off chance you see sense. Even you must see you are teetering on the edge. One wrong move, and everything you are working for will disappear. Your wife, your home, your friends, your family, even your goddamn dog will disappear if you don’t…”

Bernie did take the card, but he never rang Michael after that meeting. He drowned his anger in alcohol and drugs, and slowly he lost everything, just as it had been predicted.

And sadly, he blamed everyone but himself.

******************

It didn’t take much to convince Elton to return to his own flat once he was semi healed up, which should have concerned him, but Bernie found he was unable to muster much concern about anything any longer. He sat alone in the sitting room, not even Aurora by his side, the poor girl finally outside where she belonged, as he drank the latest gin and tonic he made for himself. He had lost track of how many he had had thus far that evening, nevermind how many he had had during the course of the day, but he did know his supply was dwindling quickly. He would need to make a package run soon if he wished to keep his sanity.

It had seemed so simple at first, getting help for his addictions. Yet the mere thought of it now caused so much panic, the harder it seemed. He took another sip of his drink. He  _ could  _ of course ring up Michael, or maybe Elton, or even his old mate Ray Williams if he had to, for the push he needed to make the final step: admitting himself into the program. The work on the phone was done. He had done that over a week ago. It was getting there that made his anxiety almost choke him.

He downed the rest of his drink with one gulp. He stared at the empty tumbler sitting in shaky hands with loathing. He hated that it ran his life now. He hated that he couldn’t even get out of bed without a drink in his hand. He hated that he couldn’t leave his house without a drink in his hand. He hated that it was the only thing that muted his demons within him, if only for a little while.

He threw the tumbler across the room, wincing at the hot tears that fell down his hollowed cheeks. If there was anything he hated, it was feeling weak. The tears made him weak.  _ Be a man _ , his father had always told him when he couldn’t make sense of his thoughts any longer.  _ Men aren’t weak. Men don’t cry. Men don’t show emotion. _

He knelt down beside the broken glass, finding one that was exceptionally jagged.  _ Should have drowned you at birth, I should have. You are a disgrace to my name _ , he had always continued.  _ There’s something wrong in the head with you, Bernard. It will cause nothing but problems. _

_ He was right. Bless him, he was always right _ , Bernie thought, as he slashed his wrist with the glass over and over and over again.  _ I am nothing. I don’t want to fight any more. Everyone will be better off without me. No one will actually care that I am gone. Disgrace. I am a disgrace… _

He felt his eyes grow heavy as he watched the blood seep into his clothes, the carpet. He felt a slow smile spread across his face.  _ Freedom. Finally… Sweet freedom, _ he thought, laying down on the floor and closing his eyes. 

Fate certainly has a way of laughing at the broken, however...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait in between chapters for this fic. I know, I know, it's not like me at all. Life has been harsh to me lately, and I can't seem to find the escape in writing like I used to. Please bear with me, because it will get exciting soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Ray Williams was a very busy man. Keeping himself prominent in the music industry took a lot of time away from most everything and everyone in his life. His wife and daughter were understanding, though the little (and sometimes big) things he bought for them did much to soothe the blow, he was sure. He surrounded himself with others’ who were just as busy as he, therefore he didn’t need to feel too badly for not keeping up with the goings-on of those around him. 

He sat at his desk chewing the end of his pencil, going over yet another long and drawn out contract procured from his lawyers for his newest signing when the intercom buzzed beside him. He groaned loudly, wanting nothing more than to finish this stupid contract so he could go home to his family in time for dinner for the first time in a week. Amoreena was leaving for boarding school the following morning, after all.

He pressed the button with more force than he intended. “Yes, Mary?,” he asked, his voice full of exasperation that he didn’t even try to hide.

“Sorry to bother you, boss, but  _ the _ Elton John is on line 1 and he’s bloody hysterical,” she replied, her voice rather breathless, as though she was speaking of the latest inane gossip around the office. “Something to do with someone named Bernie.”

“Bernie Taupin?,” Ray asked, surprised, dropping his pencil on the floor beside him. He hadn’t seen either man in years, though he spoke rather regularly (for him) with Bernie on the telephone. “I’ll take it now. Thank you, Mary.”

Yes, Ray Williams was a busy man, but he would drop everything for those he considered friends, and Bernie Taupin was his very best friend. 

  
  


*************

The flight was long. Ray was quite happy to finally step off the aeroplane after many hours stuck between two rather beefy men Heathrow to LAX, only stopping once to refill on gas. He wished wholeheartedly he had taken Elton up on the offer of the StarShip, and he definitely would use it to go home, as long as nothing went sideways during his visit.

Reid stood by the arrivals gate, the very picture of calm. His arms were folded across the front of his perfectly pressed black suit, not a hair out of place. Ray shook his head and wondered not for the first time how the unflappable man spent so much time around Elton and Bernie both without losing his patience.

He stopped before him, holding out his hand. “John. Wonderful to you, as always.”  
“Certainly, Raymond,” John replied, shaking his hand firmly. “Elton sends his best, but he refused to leave little Taupin’s side, as he has all week long. Perhaps you can persuade him to go home for a little bit to shower and change, or to at least eat a damn sandwich. I have given up.”

_ Of course you have, you insensitive prick, _ Ray thought, fixing his famous PR smile on his face. “I’ll do my best, mate.” They began the long walk towards the exit. “Tell me, what’s the prognosis as of now?”

John waved his hand. “He’ll wake up, in time. Fool can’t do anything right, not even kill himself.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his suitcoat. “There may be issues getting on from there, the doctor reports, but he will wake. Maxine hasn’t left his side, and plans to return to their home, which means Elton will return to me. So there is some good that will come of this situation, I suppose.”

“You’re an ass, John Reid,” Ray said softly, shoving his own hands in the pockets of his dungarees. “But you’re all I’ve got right now, so I’ll deal with you. Believe you me, though, Reid, once this is all said and done I will ensure you have no part within their lives again.”

If it meant giving up the life he had made in England to protect those he cared about, he would do that too. He would do anything for his friends.


	9. Chapter 9

Ray gazed around the room as he entered. Bernie was hooked up to a number of machines, a look of peace on his gaunt face. Maxine looked as lovely as ever on his left side, the wedding ring he had heard she took off years ago placed prominently on her finger, her hand closed delicately around Bernie’s left. As he entered the room proper he could see Elton, bent over with his head on the bed beside Bernie, both hands clasping Bernie’s left, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

Ray sighed, placing his hand on Elton’s shoulder as he nodded an acknowledgement to Maxine. “Hey, mate,” he said quietly, fixing a smile on his face when Elton lifted his head. “Why don’t you go down to the canteen and get a sandwich before you end up in the room beside him. It won’t do Bernie any good if you can’t be there for him, will it? You’re dreadfully thin, mate.”

Elton sighed, lifting his hat from his head and running his fingers through what was left of his hair. He sighed. “I suppose you’re right, Raymond. Good to see you, and all that, of course… But what if he wakes and I’m not here? I’ll never forgive myself.”

Ray looked down at the man, placing his hand on his shoulder. He squeezed. “How ‘bout I run down and get us a cuppa at least? Will you drink some tea if I bring it up?” He only nods. “And you, Maxine? Would you like a cuppa?”

“A cup of coffee would be wonderful, Ray,” she said, turning her damp eyes to him, her mascara running down her cheeks even now. “The nurse brought me a cup this morning but it tasted like Elton smells.”

Elton rolled his eyes, a smirk on his worn face. “I thought we had a truce going on now, darling. Nothing that would upset Bernie further and all that tosh. If it isn’t going to happen at least tell me.”

“Right, right, I seem to have forgotten...”

Ray laughed at their banter as he exited the room, nodding at John who stood against the wall in the hallway. Ray knew without a doubt he would never understand the man, no matter how long he ended up in Elton’s life. He heard many stories of their life together from Bernie over the years, and how they were still together boggled his mind.

Though how he was still with his own wife boggled his mind too.

The first thing he noticed when he finally made it back to Bernie’s floor was John no longer standing against the wall. He entered the room quickly, expecting Bernie awake and coherent, finding Bernie still fast asleep and only Maxine sitting beside him. He shook his head to clear it. “Where did Elton go?,” Ray asked, handing her her coffee.

Maxine shrugged. “John came in and pulled him to the corner. They exchanged some heated words and John pulled him out of the room. Don’t care to know anymore.”

Ray nodded, taking Elton’s seat and sipping from his tea slowly.  _ Bernie tried to commit suicide, Elton is in a seemingly controlling relationship, Maxine doesn’t care about anything anymore… And here I was in London happily enjoying my life when everything was going to shite overseas. _

_ How can I fix the mess they created? _

_ Am I even supposed to? _

_ Gods, what’s wrong with me? _


	10. Chapter 10

He gazed up at the ceiling, feeling dread he had never felt before bubble to the surface. It hadn’t worked. He woke up in the dank hospital room with only Maxine as company. She had cried crocodile tears, so fucking  _ thankful _ that he was alive, that they could try again after he sought help for both his addictions and his mental health, that they could finally be  _ whole _ . 

There was a beginning to every end, and she, of course, would always be his.

Ray had stumbled in not too long after her tearful reunion, and he couldn’t even say he was thankful to see him either. He was very much  _ ungrateful _ to have lived through his attempt. He spent his time alternating between comforting his mate and his fucking ex, and contemplating the next course of action.

_ The asylum _ , the doctor had mentioned. He would be placed on a 72 hour hold, longer if deemed necessary by the psychiatrists. He had no choice in that. He was pinned to the bed and he knew without a doubt escape would be futile with Maxine and Raymond in the midst. If it was Reggie, he could convince him to break him from the chains and help him out of the mess he found himself in. Raymond was much more law abiding than Reg, of course, and Maxine… 

Well… They never agreed to anything on a good day…

He forced himself to eat the slop the hospital considered food. He forced himself to smile and laugh and pretend everything was just fine. He forced himself to not ask where Reg was, not wanting to rile Maxine up any further. He forced himself to be the good boy they expected him to be, and followed the directions to the letter.

He would do his time, and then… Well, then he would leave them all forever.

“How much longer do I have to lay here?,” he whined, forcing his voice to be good natured, even though he felt anything but.

“The doctor is arranging transport, Bernie. Just a little while longer,” Maxine replied, taking his hand in hers. Tears were falling from her eyes again, and Bernie wondered how she even thought he believed them to be real. “Just three days then you’ll be home and we can start over again. You can write like you did back before. You always found such pleasure in writing.”

_ Until you took away my best mate and the reason I was writing in the first place, _ he thought harshly, fixing a smile on his face. “Yes, darling,” he replied instead, grasping her hand gently. “Reggie could use some new writings I’m sure.”

She pulled her hand away quickly, as though burned by the words. “Now Bernie, I thought we talked about this. That man is no good for you. Look what’s happened since he came back into your life? Certainly even you can see...”

The door opened before she could finish. “I need you both to leave now. I need to get the patient ready for discharge.”

“Discharge? I thought he was being transferred?,” Ray asked, confusion evident in his voice.

Bernie smirked when he saw Elton walk in the room behind the nurse, a grin on his otherwise worn face. “When you have enough money, you can do anything, Raymond, dear. You must know that by now.”

“Reggie,” Bernie breathed.

“I’ll always come back for you.”

*****

_ Just a drink. Just a wee, little drink _ .

He stared across the bar at Reggie dancing awkwardly with a different man than whom he came with. He knew before they even came here that having a drink meant different things to each man. He sipped gingerly at his vodka tonic and smiled as Reg let himself go for the first time in weeks. He was sprawled in his chair at the bar, wondering if he too would like to go out on the dance floor or if he was truly happy just watching the many men grinding against each other.

“What’s your name?”

Bernie turned his head gingerly to stare at the stranger who addressed him. He was good looking, for a man, even Bernie could see that. He was dressed more casually than the others who had approached him thus far. He had blond hair, green eyes, and looked like he just stepped out of the sun. He nodded to himself. “Bernie.”

“I’m Cameron. Well, Bernie, I’ve been watching you all night. Would you care to dance?”

Bernie gulped down the rest of his drink quickly. “I’d love to.”

But he didn’t love it, and didn’t see what Reg thought so wonderful about it. He found himself wanting to leave, feeling violated with each brush of Cameron’s hand, chest, groin. When he was ‘danced’ into the corner he knew he needed to do something, anything, to escape those wandering hands.

Suddenly Cameron was on the floor. Bernie looked up and saw Reg staring at him, his eyes a mixture of desperation and anger. “You came back.”

“I’ll always come back for you.”


	11. Chapter 11

He sat in the recliner by the window, looking out at the well kept grounds. He sipped slowly at his glass of water, wishing not for the first time for something stronger. For once in their life, his best mate decided to go all sensible and had thrown out all of the spirits, citing Bernie’s health being more important than even his own petty indulgences. Bernie had tried to be grateful, as Elton was so proud of himself for thinking of someone other than himself, but it was difficult when truly he just wanted to wring his neck. 

Life goes on, they say, though, and life had gone on, albeit slowly. Maxine had been an annoying fixture at the manor house no matter how many times Elton had kicked her out because Bernie couldn’t bring himself to do so himself. He would have thought sitting in silence like he had been would have been enough to give her a clue he hadn’t wanted her there, but some people were thick headed, he supposed. 

He heard fingers on the keys of the piano down the hall and felt a ghost of a smile cross his lips. Elton had finally sat down with the pages he had handed him the previous week. The tempo was not what he had envisioned upon writing, but it was fitting with the words when they crossed his lips. 

Bernie slowly got to his feet, his strength not yet quite returned to him, taking his cane in his hand. He hobbled more than walked still, but he slowly made his way to the music room, the smile becoming more real with each step. He leaned against the wall, taking in the sight of Elton banging down on the keys in the fast pace rhythm, imagining the other instruments accompanying the tune, and knowing without a doubt this would be a hit.

“‘I’m still standing’, indeed.”

Elton cut off abruptly, turning around so quickly he almost fell off the bench. His answering grin was almost manic when he took in the sight of his best mate. “Bernie, darling! You’re up!”

Bernie nodded towards the piano. “Hard not to be after that, mate.”

Elton had the grace to look sheepish. “‘m sorry if I woke you, mate. I had an idea and couldn’t put it off any longer. I was getting itchy and I’d lose it if I did... What’d you think?”

“I was only brooding, Elton, not sleeping,” Bernie quickly assured him. “And it was absolutely brilliant, mate. Not quite what I had envisioned, of course, but was brilliant all the same. Very lively.”

Elton snorted. “You probably envisioned something like a funeral dirge, eh? Something slow. I see something lively… Upbeat... Showing that no matter what went on, they… We’d be okay.” Elton shifted on the bench. “We’re alright, aren’t we, mate?”

Bernie shrugged. “Perhaps not at the moment. But we will be. In time.”

“In time,” Elton agreed softly. “You hungry?”

Bernie shrugged. “Not really, but I suppose I should eat something. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.” Bernie raised his eyebrows. “You don’t plan to cook for us, do you?”

Elton waved his hand at him, a smile on his face. “Of course not, darling, you know me better than that... I’ll order in. You go rest and I’ll let you know when it gets here.”

Bernie nodded and turned to return to his bedroom.

“Oh and Bernie?” Bernie looked back at Elton. “I’m glad you’re alright. I… I was afraid I made the wrong decision breaking you out, and well… Maybe I still did… But you still seem to be doing better each day, and I’m thankful to be a part of it. I’m here if you need chat it up about anything or...”

“I… I appreciate that, mate. I really do. But I’m alright for now. I’m going to take you up on that and rest for a bit. This is the most excitement I’ve had in a while and I’m beat. Maxine will probably be stopping in soon. Feel free to kick her out like normal, yeah?”

“Of course, I will. I fucking hate that bitch, mate. Rest well.”

Bernie slowly made his way back to his bedroom, grinning slightly as Elton pressed his fingers to the keys once again. He wasn’t lying when he said they would both be alright, in time. Time would be their friend, at some point, he was sure of it, he thought as he crawled into his bed. He took a pain pill from the bottle that sat upon his bedside table. It had to be, with all the shit it had put them through in their short lives thus far… He curled into the fetal position and shut his eyes.

If only he knew how wrong he was, he might have made a different decision...


	12. Chapter 12

It was three am. Nothing good ever came from three am wake ups, no matter the cause, Bernie had decided long ago. He slowly pulled himself to a sitting position on the bed, glaring at the bright alarm clock sitting innocently on his bedside table. He took a gulp from his water glass, before pulling his cane to him. He got to his feet just as slowly as he pulled himself into the sitting position, cursing his body for getting so old so quickly. 

Something was wrong. He could feel it in his aching bones.

He slipped his bare feet into his slippers, pulling his fleece robe on over his bare shoulders, and shuffled his way to Elton’s bedroom. He found himself praying to the God he didn’t believe in that his mate was safe and sound, asleep in bed. That the feeling of dread that awoke him was unfounded. With each step the dread grew even deeper in his bones, his breathing growing shallower, no longer hearing the steady click of his cane on the hardwood altogether.

Something was wrong. He couldn’t face it.

He put his hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath, his heart beating in his throat. He opened the door and gasped. Blood. There was so much blood. Vomit. So much Vomit everywhere. Elton lay on his bed, his skin pale and glistening, a look of peace on his face.

Bernie rushed to his side and felt for a pulse. He wasn’t too late. He wasn’t too late to save his best friend. He dialed emergency services, cursing himself all the while for being so wrapped up in his own head, so wrapped up in his own drama, he didn’t even think to ask after Elton, knowing the man’s history. Knowing how little Elton could handle emotionally before snapping. Knowing the signs, and seeing them and ignoring them whilst wallowing in his own self pity. 

Gods, but were they a pair…

Bernie took Elton’s hand in his own, frowning at how clammy it was. “It’s okay, love. I’m getting help. I’m getting help for you. Stay with me, love. You need to stay with me now. I can’t… I won’t do this without you, Reggie, love. Stay with me, love. For the love of God, stay with me…”

The paramedics were there within minutes, and Bernie was left staring at the doorway in which they came and left with Elton, leaning on his cane, at a loss. 

They tossed out words and phrases that frightened him, as though they forgot he was even there.  _ Critical condition. Barely breathing. Drug overdose. Suicide attempt.  _ By the time Bernie could process anything they had him on the gurney and were wheeling him out of the room.

The maid found him still standing in the middle of the room, leaning on the cane and staring blankly at the open doorway, hours later when she came in to clean up the mess. She guided him to his room and helped him into bed. 

The shock was almost too much for Bernie to bear. 

********

Bernie stopped short of entering the hospital room and groaned. “What the bloody hell are you  doing here, Reid?,” he asked, leaning against the doorway and pinching the bridge of his nose. John Reid was the last person he expected to see at Elton’s bedside, after how they left things all those years ago.

“Well,  _ someone _ needed to be here, since you bloody well ditched him, didn’t ya?,” he asked, a smirk on his face that Bernie wanted to smack off of it. He clenched his fist over his cane instead. “I received the phone call, still being the first on his emergency contact list, of course, the moment he was admitted. I was wondering if you’d ever show your face here, little Taupin.”

Bernie closed the door gently behind him. “It took me a bit, yes. Seeing my best mate covered in blood was a wee bit shocking and it took me by surprise. I had to get my head on straight before I made my way here or else I’d have ended up in a bed beside him due to a bloody wreck. Unlike you… You seem pretty calm considering the love of your life almost died here, mate.”

John smiled. “Oh, don’t misunderstand me. I am bloody well torn to pieces. Unlike you, little Taupin, I know how to be an adult and put others before myself.” Bernie noticed how the hand grasping Elton’s was shaking slightly, and found himself bemused. He didn’t think John actually cared one bit about Elton, other than the money he brought to him. Maybe he should have actually believed him all those years ago... “One day you’ll get there, perhaps. Perhaps not. Until then, sit there and be quiet, will you? He needs his rest.”

And for once, Bernie listened.

**********

Elton stormed through the door to their shared hotel room. “John and I are through!”

Bernie rolled over onto his stomach on his hotel bed and smirked. He closed his magazine, and placed his chin on his hand. “Why this time? Do tell.”

Elton collapsed onto his hotel bed. “He only cares about how many shows I can do, Bernie! He doesn’t care that I am bloody well exhausted from all the touring. He doesn’t care that I’m exhausted from the recordings. He doesn’t care that if I have to do another bloody interview and talk about my daddy issues I will punch the reporter in the face. Album, tour, album, tour. I need a fucking break, Bernie.”

“You want a drink, love?”

Elton groaned. “Gin and tonic, if you please”

Bernie hoisted himself off the bed and fixed them both a drink. “Why don’t we go home, Elton? Go back to my ranch? We can go home and write like we did? Even for just a little while. You're burnt out. I’m burnt out. My marriage is over so no Maxine to annoy us. We can start fresh. Go back to our roots. No more Reid to worry about.” He handed Elton his drink. “Just think on it, yeah? I know you love him for some god damn reason, but he’s just not good for you, mate. He doesn’t care a whit about you, just what you do for him, I swear to you.”

“That’s not true,” Elton replied, his voice small and wavering. “He loves me. He isn’t the same person around you, Bernie. He bloody well hates you.” Bernie snorts. “He is the sweetest, kindest man I have ever met.”

Bernie put his hand on Elton’s shoulder. “Okay, love. He loves you. Let’s finish our drinks and get some sleep. It’s late. Think on my idea, though?”

Elton nodded, downing his drink in one gulp, and allowing Bernie to tuck him into bed. Elton grabbed Bernie’s wrist before he could go back to his bed. “He really does love me.”

“I believe you.”


	13. Chapter 13

Bernie sat at Elton’s bedside, doing his best to wrap his head around Reid  _ still _ being there. Didn’t the man have other people to annoy? Artists to manage? Whatever it is he did day in and day out that didn’t include Elton any longer? He sipped at his sweet tea, still trying to wrap his head around this  _ caring _ John Reid. An arsehole John Reid he could understand. A sarcastic, impatient, low emotionally intelligent John Reid he could understand, as that was what he dealt with most of the time. Hell, even an indifferent John Reid he could understand. 

This man who sat alternating between soft touches and quiet crying at his ex’s bedside he didn’t understand, and it almost fascinated him.

He took a bite of a crisp, wishing he had the foresight to bring something more substantial like Reid had. He was nervous that if he left the room, John would ensure he would not have clearance to return, and he  _ needed  _ to be there when ( _ if, _ his conscious supplied helpfully), Elton awoke. (It felt like since the day they met they were on opposite sides of the tennis court, volleying back and forth for a place in Elton’s life. Neither winning, neither losing. Maybe one day the match would finally end, because Bernie was bloody well tired of it after almost twenty years.)

His stomach growled loudly. He continued to remind himself he was lucky enough the nurse supplied the crisps and sweet tea, and went back to his vigil of watching the soft rise and fall of Elton’s chest, aided by the ventilator they had him attached to. He hadn’t once fought the tubes, which they tried to assure them both was a good thing. 

Bernie begged to differ. He knew a good bit from the medical science shows he had been watching lately, thank you very much.

“Why did you guys break up?,” Bernie asked, before crunching into another crisp. He was driving himself crazy with his anxiety. He had always wondered after John’s side of the story. If John answered, wonderful. If not, at least he tried to take his mind of it for at least a moment.

“He never told you?,” John asked, one eyebrow cocked in surprised.

“He told me his side of why. I was always curious why you let him go so easily. You had your hooks in him so quickly, easily. You used him for all he had, and then some. It always wondered why you let him leave you, yet he never sacked you. His reasoning never made a bit of sense.”

“What was his reasoning?”

“That you had his best interests at heart. I never once saw that, Reid. Never once saw that in all the time you have been in his life. He said you hate me with a passion, and that is why I never saw the good side of you. I never understood why you hated me, either. What Elton and I had was years ago. Years before you and he even met. I was a bloody teenager, exploring with my best mate what I may or may not like, and you still hold that against me… I just…”

“Let me stop you there. I don’t hate you for what you and Elton had. I could care less about Elton’s past partners. He and I have a checkered relationship, and have stepped out on each other numerous times, but I also know what he and I had was special, and perhaps one day we can have it again. I think you are a wanker, little Taupin, in your own right. I think you are unnecessary in Elton’s career. I think you do more harm to him than good. I think you are the reason he is lying here in this hospital bed, and really should leave before you before you cause any more damage. THOSE are the issues I have with you, and the issues I have always had with you. 

“Second, I let him go so  _ easily _ ,  as you put it, because I only want what is best for him. At the time, I was not it. That’s as much as I plan to tell you, little Taupin.”

Bernie shifted uncomfortably throughout Reid’s speech. Suddenly Bernie didn’t know if he was doing right by Elton even being there. They had been a team throughout their adult life, going on 20 years. He didn’t know how to live his life without the wrench named Elton John beside him. He made things difficult for him at times, yes, but to go without him? Even if it would be better for Elton? Dare he try it?

He had a lot to consider, and fuck it all. He  _ really _ hated John Reid...


	14. Chapter 14

Bernie smiled as he took in his grandchildren playing tag in the front yard, encased in the white picket fence his daughter had insisted upon since she was but a wee tot on his knee that her home would have, when she was  _ finally _ old enough to leave the  _ insufferable _ men in her life. He wondered at times what he did to deserve her in his life, after all the trouble he had caused her, and all the trouble her mother caused for them, but was thankful all the same.

“Boys! Time to come inside now! Dinner’s just about ready!,” Catherine yelled from the doorway, wiping her wet hands on her apron. The trio of boys groaned good naturedly. “I know. I’m such a mean Momma. Come now, time to wash your hands. Your father should be home anytime and we want to be presentable for him, don’t we?”

“Last one inside does the dishes for a week!,” Gabriel, the oldest boy, yelled, taking off quickly. The middle child, Michael, taking off just behind him.

“Aww, nuts,” Samuel replied, stomping his little foot.

“No worries, Sammy. I’ll help you with the dishes, baby. Come on inside now.” Catherine tilted her head to the side, looking into the car parked at the side of her house. “I’ll be in in just a minute, Sammy, alright?” She took off her apron and folded it neatly, placing it on the rocking chair beside her. “Ask your brothers to help you wash your hands for me, babe,” she said, now distractedly prodding him into the house. She took a deep, steadying breath. She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, and one never knew which state Bernie Taupin would be when he unexpectedly showed up...

“Shite,” Bernie muttered, stuffing his almost empty bottle of whisky under the passenger seat of the car. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, before rolling down the window slowly. He put a smile on his face that he was sure looked more like a grimace. “G’evening, Catherine. Fine weather we’re having, ain’t we now?”

She folded her arms across the front of her dress, wrinkling her nose. “You’re drunk.”

Bernie shrugged. “Maybe a little?”

“You’re supposed to be sober, Dad! You promised me!”

Bernie sighed. “Elton tried to commit suicide. Reid kicked me out of their life. Raymond is on tour with some band in Australia. Maxine finally got the hint and wants nothing to do with me, nevermind your mother. I have no one else, do I? I didn’t know what else to do but pick up the drink.”

Catherine laughed derisively. “So you got drunk and what? Decided to lurk outside my house? Because that’s what normal people do when…”  
“I’m not lurking!”

“Oh? So what do you call this then?”

“I was checking up on you. Making sure the wee ones were alright.”

She sighed. “Well, come in, I suppose. David will be home soon and we will have dinner. Meatloaf, your favorite. We’ll talk more when you’ve sobered up. There is a lot to unpack in what you’ve told me, but I don’t think you can tell me much, can you? Not now, at least.”

Bernie shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “No, I didn’t come here to unload on you. I didn’t come here for dinner. I just needed to see your face. I just needed to see my grandchildren. I got what I came for, love, thank you. Enjoy your life, Catherine. Enjoy your children. Don’t make the same mistakes I did, thinking you can put things off until tomorrow. Because one day, tomorrow won’t be what you make of it, and you will only have today. I love you.”

“Dad, I don’t understand…”

“Maybe not now, child, but you will,” Bernie replied, shifting his car to drive. “Trust me, love, you will, sooner than you can imagine.”

Bernie drove away, pretending not to see the tears streaming from Catherine’s eyes. He fished his whisky out from under the seat and nursed slowly at the remaining liquid, thankful for the burn. 

He hated being the one to make her cry. Always had.

He didn’t know what his future held, but he did know that it wouldn’t hold a candle to his past. 

  
  


**********

  
  


When Elton opened his eyes, he hadn’t expected to see John slumbering peacefully beside him. He thought he had been written off by the man years ago. He hadn’t expected to feel the blinding pain, and not remember what caused it all. He hadn’t expected to be laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines, when the last thing he remembered was laying on the bed drinking a bit of gin whilst he tried to figure out just what to do about Bernie. 

From the state of his bandages he seemed to have done a bit more than drink.

“John,” he whispered, unable to bring his voice much higher. “John, wake up. What’s happened?”

“Oh, Elton! Thank heavens you’re awake!,” John exclaimed, almost falling out of his chair. “WHen they said you were breathing on your own and it was time to take out the tube I was worried, but it’s a blessing to hear your voice again!”

“Tube?”

“You’ve been on a ventilator for days now, love. You were… Pretty rough when they brought you in. I didn’t think you were going to make it through. But you did! Oh Gods, you did.” 

And then John was crying. Elton shifted uncomfortably on the bed, patting John’s hand gently as he looked around the room. “Where’s Bernie?”

John cleared his throat. “I uh… I kicked Little Taupin out.”

Elton rolled his eyes, folding his arms across the front of his hospital gown. “Why this time?”

“You have to see the reason you are here is because of him, love? You have to see how much happier you would be without him in your life? Because I see it. I…”

Elton shook his head. “Bernie is my creative partner, John. He is my very best mate. He is the one I go to when you and everyone else in my life push me over the deep end. He was my first love. The first person to introduce me to sex. We have a connection that runs deeper than anyone can ever fill. You cannot and will not take that away from me. Go find him, John. Go find him and bring him to me… Now. Unless you want out of my life for good, you will do as I say, John. Go find him and make it right. I fear you might have gone and done it this time, and I swear if you have, I will never forgive you.”

“What do you mean, Elton?”

“Just go! Find him! Now!”

John scurried out of the room and Elton sighed.  _ Oh Bernie, please oh please don’t let it be too late. _


End file.
